


Hoping It'll All Work Out

by gala_apples



Series: The Loverboy Diet [5]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Arguing, Background Poly, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Spanking, Triggers, Voyeurism, resolved fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3649407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Michael had any illusions about Jack’s home being more controlled than Morrison Tower, they’re wiped out on his second morning there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hoping It'll All Work Out

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has Michael emancipated from emotionally abusive and intolerant parents. I have purposely done zero research on his RL family and siblings, because that's my personal RPF line in the sand. I don't even know their names. Anything I've written about them is surely not true.
> 
> **The trigger warning noted in the tags is Michael getting triggered. Geoff accidentally uses a phrase Michael's father used to berate him with.**
> 
> Everyone's above the age of consent in this fic, but there are some high school/college relationships, and it's implied this relationship has gone on a while.

Because the world is an asshole at heart, Michael does not get to sleep in. He doesn’t know what time it is when his door is kicked open, but he knows he doesn’t feel fucking _rested_. Like he’s about to have a heart attack is a more accurate description.

“Morning!”

Fuckin’ Geoff. Why is he even here? At least Michael doesn’t have to scramble for a makeshift weapon, like he would if it was a rowdy neighbour back at Morrison Tower, just in case. Shit, he doesn’t even have to sit up. Geoff has introduced himself, probably on the way home from dropping Gavin off at school, and now he can go fuck off with Jack until Michael chooses to get his ass up. When it’s noon Michael will return the enthusiastic greeting, not a minute before.

“I said morning, motherfucker!”

Clearly Jack and Geoff have the same inclinations when it comes to torture via sleep deprivation. But Jack was just middle of the night wired. Geoff is goddamn chipper. Michael cracks an eye open. Sure enough, the asshole’s even dressed for the day. At least have some self respect and drop your journeyman off in pyjamas so you can nap after. Fuck.

“No morning salutations?”

Is he fucking kidding? “What the fuck are you so happy about? Are you just really that into sleepy morning sex? Because you blew that shit out of the water when you made my heart crap itself. I’ve got adrenaline for _days_ , now.”

“Morning sex? I dunno, maybe later. For now you just gotta get up.”

The fuck he does. “You’re Gavin’s boss, not mine. I’m suspended, I don’t have to do shit.” Well except Ms OConnell’s lumber store assignment, but Geoff doesn’t know about that and Michael’s got a few days left. Or ages, as Gavin would say.

“So you don’t like the direct talking approach. Let’s try another way.” 

Geoff lifts up the edge of the blanket and for a moment Michael thinks he’s going to do the bullshit tearing-off-his-blankets approach. There’s only a middling chance of that working. The strategy is way less effective in a room that isn’t cold as hell, and Jack’s house’s thermostat is far more comfortably set than Morrison Tower’s. Geoff doesn’t rip them off though. Instead he lifts the blanket up enough to slide underneath, jeans and all. Michael likes that, despite the rasp of denim on his bare legs. Morning cuddles will be the first quasi-sexual overture Geoff’s made. There’s no doubt about it, Michael’s wanted full out sexual since the first time he saw him in the lobby. Even if this only goes as far as fully clothed cuddling, if Michael gets the little spoon position he’ll have Geoff’s tattooed arms curled around him. He can jack off about that later, no problem.

That’s not how it happens at all. Michael gets about one second of Geoff laying peacefully beside him before he’s being completely fucking manhandled. Once Michael’s basically on his stomach, arms trapped underneath himself, Geoff hits his ass. He whomps it about fifteen times in a row. It’s so stunning that Michael’s barely starting to roll away when Geoff stops.

“Awake now? Good.” Geoff props himself on one elbow so they’re facing each other and kisses Michael on the forehead. “Get up now. We’ve got shit to do.”

With that Geoff gets up and strides confidently out of the bedroom. Michael lays there for a minute, blinking. There’s no question that he’s hard. It’s just, is it because Geoff’s hot and was in bed with him, that Geoff slapped him around, or is it regular morning wood that he didn’t notice in the rush of Geoff coming in?

Michael flops onto his back so he can blink at the ceiling for a bit instead of the wall. Variety is important, after all. He bites his lip as his tender ass suddenly presses into firm mattress. Well, that kind of answers the fuck out of that. Just like the other times he’s had rougher, demanding sex with his boyfriends and gotten off on it, getting slapped around does it for him too. 

Michael wiggles his boxers halfway down his thighs and jerks it, imagining Geoff fucking him hard. Him and Gavin. Geoff could go back and forth, fucking one of them until they’re about to come, and then switch. Edging porn is the best. Gavin would probably break first, start begging Geoff to stop teasing first, which would only make it better. Or maybe there’s a spell where Geoff only fucks him but Gavin can feel it like it’s happening to him. There’s spells for everything, right? And how great would it be for Gavin to be playing video games with Ray only for his eyes to suddenly roll into the back of his head as a disembodied cock started bashing his prostate?

Michael flexes his ass as a test. His abused cheeks twinge at the movement. It’s fucking insanely hot. No wonder Geoff hit him, knowing that it would fucking linger, that Michael’d be feeling him all day. Who wouldn’t be into that? Ryan could definitely get into it too, if Michael told him to go for it. What if the next time Ryan needed to memorize lines he put Michael over his legs and spanked him to the rhythm of iambic pentameter? Fuck, Michael would be so down for that; Ryan’s smell and Ryan’s voice and this painful heat in his ass. _Fuck_.

“Yeah, he tends to have that effect.” 

Oh shit. How long has Jack been standing in the hall? How did he not notice before? It’s not like he doesn’t have peripheral vision. Oh well. The hell does he care if Jack wants to watch him jerk it? It’s not like they’re not going to wind up in bed at some point. Plus Jack should get points for making his presence known. That’s better than Michael managed yesterday, at least until after the fact.

“Yeah?”

Jack laughs lowly. “Far as I’m concerned, if Geoff Ramsey doesn’t make you want to jerk it until you cry, you’re asexual.”

“High bar.”

“Not really. He’s made Gavin cry before.”

Michael might not be thinking with full force, most of his mental capacity focused on Ray pinning his arms so he can’t crawl away from Geoff hitting him, but he’s still got enough of his brain to call Jack out on his lie. “Gavin doesn’t cry.”

“Not about _stuff_. But in bed he can. Haven’t you and Ryan?” Jack trails off but the end of the question is obvious.

“We’re more into quick and dirty.” A kind of cavalcade of memories of his boys flash through his head. Shit, he’s had some great sex.

“That’s not Geoff. He might be dirty but he’s not going to be quick.”

And there goes Michael’s fantasy proved true. Fuck, Geoff really would edge him into insanity after roughing him up. The certainty is the last straw. Michael arches up under Jack’s avid eyes and explodes into his hand.

“So that was a hot start to the morning. Uh. Sorry I didn’t ask first?”

“‘S fine... I started it.” Michael pants out. As far as he’s concerned, voyeurism between boyfriends is just dandy.

“But anyway, you really should get up.”

“Lemme...just...shower first.”

When Michael finally enters the kitchen he can see why they were in a hurry. Geoff and Jack have both already finished their own breakfasts. Jack’s cup of coffee is drained too, while Geoff’s is still on his first, unless it’s a refill. More importantly there's a plate of bacon out for him. Literally just a plate of bacon. Best breakfast ever, except maybe an egg McMuffin.

Michael takes his first bite and frowns. “It’s cold.”

“You’re the one who took ten minutes to jerk off and clean up,” Geoff points out.

“I didn’t.”

“You left the door open, little buddy. You might not be a screamer, but you’re not mute.”

There's no point in denying it any further. Not only is it obvious that Geoff's not buying it -whether or not it was the noise thing, or Jack ratting him out- it's not like there's a good reason to deny pulling pud. He likes rough handling. Lots of people do. So what?

"Okay, but your plates don't have a keep warm charm?"

"Right, because that would make salad or cold cuts and crackers so appetizing," Jack returns. “Nothing better than hot goddamn lettuce.”

Geoff gestures wildly, tattooed arm encompassing half the kitchen. "Nuke it and eat it up. We gotta get going."

"Going where?"

Jack smiles, teeth gleaming white above groomed ginger beard. "To finish getting your life back in order."

"Fuck you," Michael snaps. He’s heard that phrase too many times to count. It was a favourite of his father’s, and therefore by extension Jeremiah and Joshua’s. The last time he audibly heard it was when his father said he’d look into conversion therapy, to get Michael’s life back in order. He’s read it more recently, in letters of his mother’s. He’s not doing it any more. He’s an adult, legally, and he’s not letting anyone order him and change him again.

“What?” Geoff looks at Jack for a moment then turns back to Michael. His face is dopey; confused and adorable, and Michael wants to drench it with Geoff’s full mug of steaming hot coffee.

“I said: fuck. You.”

He's on the verge of a no win situation. Getting kicked out of Jack’s house for not adhering to whatever line he wants him to follow isn’t that bad. It’s putting himself in the financial situation he was in before, but that Michael can deal with. He can also deal with not jumping their bones. As much as they’re hot, wanting more than Ryan and Ray and Gavin is objectively ridiculous. The problem is what bailing out of the group relationship might cause. The problem, specifically, is Geoff. There is a difference between Gavin arranging for them to never be in the same room, and avoiding each other out of active animosity. Michael knows for certain now -and could have guessed even without the Dan story- that Gavin’s biggest fear is having to choose between the magical and non-magical world, and the people on either side of that gap. Standing up for himself against Jack and Geoff, it’s good for him but it’s bad for Gavin. Gavin can’t choose a side. It’ll tear him up. And if he has to? Geoff and Gavin are fated. Michael’s just a boyfriend.

But still. Still, given all that, he’ll say what he has to say. He’ll put himself in the precarious position of maybe losing Gav in the future. Michael’s not going to let Geoff and Jack think he can just be altered and put on a path of their choice. He can’t. He’ll fight everyone.

“Shut up-”

“Fuck you!”

“Shut up before you freak out,” Jack continues firmly.

“Pretty sure that ship’s fuckin’ sailed,” Geoff mutters. “Probably sounded like his fuckin’ parents.”

Jack nods. Michael kind of wants to grab him by the beard and shake him. What the fuck could Jack know about Michael’s fucking parents? Just how much has Gavin fucking spilled?

“I don’t know if you’re have a weird flashback right now, but stop. I’m your boyfriend, not your parents. All I’m interested in is reducing hex harm, not turning you into Perfect Christian Boy number five. Gavin’s made it pretty clear how much he hates religion at this point. He barely puts up with my belief. He’d rupture my ballsack if he thought I was trying to re-convert you.”

“So what exactly is your plan for order?” Fuck, it makes Michael want to hit something just letting the phrase pass through gritted teeth. And there’s no way that the older guys haven’t picked up on it. Magicians are notorious with minute details. “Because I’m already not kissing people. That was basically-”

Jack interrupts with a careful hand on his arm. It’s light enough that Michael could easily shove it away if he wanted to. “We’re getting your suspension off your record.”

“So go drive to Vegas and buy yourself a hooker to do blow off of over lunch, because your party time suspension is shut down early. You’ll be in class by this afternoon.”

Michael doesn’t really care about his record, considering he’s not going to university. Nor is he yearning to be back in class. For every Ms OConnell there’s a Mr Saporro, his demon of a freshman math teacher. The biggest factor though is how much people as a race suck. Even the people he likes. Sure if two masters go to Juno Bailey to take him off the hook for his actions he’ll be so far off it’ll be like no fisherman ever invented hooks in 7000 BC. Michael has no doubt about that. But like an airborne disease his status will get out, and quick.

It’s the kind of thing that stays centre of attention. Yeah the stats say forty five percent of people fifty-plus have been hexed more than three times. Being middle aged is fucking different than being a high schooler. At eighteen most people haven’t had a conversation with a magician, never mind dated one. It’s like having a cop in the family, or not. You’re aware crimes happen, news and prime time drama shows both say so, but you don’t get it. If you don’t know a magician you don’t know how easy it can be to magically fuck someone over. Instead you just think they brought it on themselves. If Jack and Geoff attempt to fix the problem, they’ll make a worse on. Everyone will know Michael’s not 201, the queer activist. He’s just some pathetic bitch who didn’t see it coming.

“I’ll pass.”

“What?”

“I’m not saying it mule-headedly or whatever. I’m not refusing your help because you used a shitty phrase. I just don’t want you to. It’s not worth it.”

“You’d rather people think you like sexually harassing people than know that you’ve been unfairly hexed? There’s really still that much of a stigma?”

Michael shoots Geoff a look. What kind of dumbass question is that? “Uh, yeah. What the hell high school did you go to?”

“Itinerant sets ups across Baghdad.”

“Excuse me?” Michael crosses his arms. He’s being played, obviously, but he doesn’t get the angle yet.

“We were journeymen too, Michael. Hassan was my master, he lived in Baghdad. I’m not trying to give you a sob story, man, but hexing was pretty fucking low on the list of an average secondary student’s concerns.”

“High school was less dangerous in Melbourne, you know, Austrailia, but magic wasn’t as polarised as it is here. I don’t think anyone didn’t use multiple spells on a daily basis.”

“I don’t know what the fuck to say.” Jack might or might not have enjoyed himself in Australia, land of venomous animals and insane weather, but fucking Iraq? Seriously? What kind of bullshit fate council allows a sixteen year old to go live in a war zone?

Geoff shrugs. “Look. You don’t want your name cleaned, we won’t clean your name. Simple as dicks. But the offer stands, from here til Friday.”

Jack chimes in, “after, even. If you’re worried about your permanent record we can explain why it should be cleared.”

“I’m not going to college, so I can’t see that mattering, but thanks, man. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Fair play.” Geoff snatches the patterned plate from under Michael’s nose. Before Michael can say that he’ll eat cold bacon, it’s fine, no reason to chuck it, Geoff’s shoving it in the microwave with a loud click of corelle on glass. The sizzling of remelting fat is audible from across the room.

“So now that I’ve ruined your plans to save the day, what do you want to do?”

Geoff smacks the steaming plate back on the quilted placemat. “Well you could finish your fucking breakfast, for one. After that I don’t know. We don’t have any clients today. We could do something until my ass has to leave to pick up Gav.”

Jack smiles. “You ever play Trials Fusion?”

“Is that a video game? No, but I’d be down.”

More important than the offer to clean up his transcript, Michael’s going to keep in mind how this first fight went down. They haven’t made too big a deal of his completely fucking justified but misinformed reaction, demanded an apology for his thrice dropped _fuck you_ bomb. They also didn’t keep on in the same vein like his opinion didn’t matter, they changed their method and explained. It’s a good sign for being able to have real relationships with them, secondary or not.


End file.
